Stone blinked. “Well, send somebody over here to arrest him.”
“We’ll question him at your house. If he’s got an alibi, it’ll save us a trip downtown.”
“Whatever you like, but you have to promise me something.”
“What’s that?”
“If your people are going to bring him into my house, they’d better get him out when they’re done.”
“Agreed.”
Fifteen
Stone sat at the table in his conference room with two detectives and stared at Edwin Charles Jr.
“Are you represented by Stone Barrington?” Detective Casey asked him.
“Yes, I am,” Eddie replied.
“No, he is not represented by me,” Stone said.
“Stone, just for the purpose of this interrogation, will you represent him?”
“Oh, all right. You can’t ask him any questions if I don’t. After this chat he’ll have to find another attorney.”
“Good,” Casey said, turning his attention to Eddie Jr. “Now...”
“Eddie,” Stone said.
The young man’s head swiveled Stone’s way. “Yes, Stone?”
“Don’t answer that question, or any other question the police ask you, until we can get an attorney who will accept your case.”
Eddie turned back to face Casey. “Okay, what do you want to know?”
Casey pressed a button on a recorder. “Where have you been for the past three days?” he asked.
“Don’t answer that, Eddie,” Stone said.
“At my house in East Hampton.”
“He doesn’t have a house in East Hampton,” Stone said.
“Are you trying to convict him for us?” Casey asked.
“No, I want nothing to do with him.”
“You said you’d represent him for the purpose of this interrogation.”
“Yes, well, I did my duty by telling him not to answer anything, as any good lawyer would do. My mistake was in thinking that he would do as I told him.”
“If he wants to answer, I’m not going to stop him.”
“Eddie, you don’t have a house in East Hampton,” Stone said. “Your stepmother cut you out of her will, so everything she has goes to Joan Robertson. It’s Joan’s house now.”
“Nevertheless,” Eddie said, “that’s where I was. At 69 Further Lane.”
“Was anyone there with you?” Casey asked.
“Yes, a girl named Flamingo Flame.”
“That’s her stripper name,” Stone said. “What did her mother name her?”
“I never knew her mother,” Eddie replied. “Anyway, her mother wasn’t there.”
“Okay,” Stone said to Casey. “Ask the son of a bitch anything you like, over my protest. I’ll get everything thrown out of court because he isn’t represented by an attorney.”
“Oh, no, you don’t,” Casey said. “I have you on tape saying you’re representing him for the purpose of this interrogation.”
“You tell the judge your story, and I’ll tell him mine,” Stone said. “Now, I want all of you out of my house, including Eddie. Especially Eddie. And since he won’t answer your questions, you don’t have probable cause to arrest him. Beat it, Casey.”
“He was answering my questions until just a minute ago.”
“He’s changed his mind,” Stone said. He pressed a button in front of him.
“Yes, sir?” Joan answered.
“Get your step-cousin out of here and into his car at the curb.”
Joan came in, took Eddie by the wrist and elbow, and frog-marched him out of the room.
“Okay, Casey,” Stone said, “we’re back to where we started.” He took the cassette out of Casey’s recorder and put it in his jacket pocket. “Anything he said to you I will protest to a judge.”
Joan came back into the conference room “Okay, Eddie is back in his car.”
Stone took the cassette out of his pocket and handed it to her. “Burn this,” he said. “You,” he said, pointing at Casey, “you and yours: out! Joan, when you’re done, make a dozen copies of Annetta’s death certificate and our client agreement to represent her.”
“Yes, sir.” She left the room.
“Why is she still taking orders from you?” Casey asked. “She’s now your client.”
“I’m advising her,” Stone said. “Why are you still here?”
Casey got up, beckoned to his partner, and trudged out of the building.
Joan came back. “What now?”
“Do you have a key to Annetta’s former abode?”
“Yes.”
“How about the East Hampton house?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Now call Bob Cantor and tell him I want him to go to the apartment and change all the locks to those Israeli things he likes so much. We’ll meet him there, and when he’s done with that he can go out to East Hampton and change all the locks there, too.”
“And why are we doing this?” she asked.
“To keep Eddie Jr. out. Tell Fred to bring out the car, and don’t tell Eddie where we’re going.”
“Okay.” Joan left the room.
Stone walked around the offices to be sure all the cops were gone, then he looked out the window into the street and saw that Eddie’s car was gone, too.
Excellent!
Sixteen
Stone got into the Bentley with Joan and told Fred to proceed. “Do you have a remote control for the garage?” he asked Joan.
Joan took a small box from her purse and rummaged in it. “Yes,” she said.
“Fred, when we get there, drive into the garage. Joan will open it for you.”
“Yes, sir,” Fred replied.
Shortly, they turned into the short drive, and Joan opened the garage door.
“What else is on this level?” Stone asked.
“Staff rooms and what Aunt Annetta deigned to call the ‘servants’ hall.’ ”
“Let’s go there,” Stone said.
They got out of the car, which was parked next to a Mercedes station wagon and two Bentleys. Stone followed Joan into a room that had probably been suggested by Downton Abbey. Two maids and Geoffrey, the butler, were drinking coffee and watching a soccer match on a large TV.
“Listen up,” Stone said, “and mute the TV.”
Everybody jumped at his command.
“This,” Stone said, removing a sheet of paper from his briefcase, “is the death certificate of Annetta Charles.” He set it on the table and produced another sheet. “This is a page from Mrs. Charles’s will, bequeathing her entire estate to her niece, Joan Robertson, who stands beside me. This document specifically excludes Edwin Charles Jr. from inheriting any part of these estates. It also names me as the executor of her estate.” He found another sheet of paper. “This,” he said, “is a copy of the standard client agreement, appointing my law firm, under my supervision, to represent her, her estate, and the estate of her late husband, Edwin Charles. Is there a bulletin board in this room?”
“Yes, sir,” Geoffrey replied.
“Good. Please post these documents on that board, so that all the staff may read them. And get me a list of the staff members. Does anyone not understand that Joan Robertson now owns everything that previously was owned by Edwin and Annetta Charles?”
No one spoke.
“Good. Now, your first instruction from me is that, according to Mrs. Charles’s will, her stepson, Edwin Charles Jr., is barred from entering this house or any other dwelling or building owned by the Charleses. If he attempts to enter any of these buildings, you may eject him, or call the police and report him as a trespasser. Is that perfectly clear?”
Everyone nodded.
Bob Cantor entered the room, pushing a handcart containing a number of cardboard boxes.
“Good afternoon, Bob. Ladies and gentlemen, this is Mr. Robert Cantor, who will be replacing all the locks in the house with much better locks. Keys will be issued to authorized personnel by Ms. Robertson or me. Please help him in any way you can. Get started, Bob, and take a look at the security system and let me know if you consider any part of it to be inadequate.”